bad joke

A couple of weeks back I was having this phone conversation with Her and she was telling about finally getting to talk to an old friend, whom she invited to her kid's christening. Then she mentioned that friend, who was surprised that she already has a child, had asked who the dad was. Instead of just listening quietly I replied:

"E 'di sana sinabi mo ako tatay n'ya. Kakulay ko naman, e."

It was a just a little joke meant to brighten up an otherwise sour story telling session. Nevertheless she went quiet. We both did. I guess she didn't know what or how to reply. And I was in total shock over what I just said.

The joke wasn't really funny at all. My stupid mouth.



weird dream
An obscure dream is often characterized in the movies by psychedelic color schemes and bizarre images popping in and out of the dreamer's consciousness. My dream, last week, had none of those but was just as obscure.

I was standing in the middle of some unrecognizable room, carrying a small, sleeping child (around 1 year old). I [think] I was humming him to sleep. I knew it was a "him." And then the doors creaks open and out comes She, who approached us and took the child in her own arms while saying:

"Halika na, baby. Pagod na si Daddy, e."

When I woke I up I spent a good ten minutes thinking about the dream. Was that my repression screaming, making its presence known? Or is it simply my desire to start a family with Her?

Did I say, "start a family?" I've really gone insane. Nah, as much as I would deny this, truth is that I really do want to settle down. But my financial situation is really not ideal for marriage.

But still, I wouldn't mind raising a child not of my own. I spent months taking care of my nephew, how's her kid gonna be any different?

I need someone to talk to, specifically male belonging to the same age group. Because let's face it every guy needs a support group.
Wacko is now based in Cebu.
Elad is so busy with his thesis.
Who am I left to confide to?

Here's a sketch of Kupcake, a character created by grandmaster Budjette Tan under Alamat Comics.

She originally looked Natalie Mechant-ish, although I think she was patterned after Cooky Chua. So I tried to give Kupcake a more fun and modern look and, in contrast to her origins, a lot of colors.

As part of my research work I had to trudge along to Cubao, to Mowelfund and watch a lot of movies, particularly the old action flicks with Fernando Poe Jr, Paquito Diaz and some bold actress who is obviously old enough to be FPJ's daughter.


Friday -- March 18
I didn't know where Mowelfund is, so my brother instructed me to go to the PETA office, where one of his colleagues would direct me there. So I had Uri come along and feel the joys of getting lost. That's exactly what happened, I'm not sure how we ended up in Marikina, but we did and we had to go back to Cubao.

We finally got into the damn compound. We almost froze when we got into the building; the hallways were so deserted and there was an eerie chill, we half expected FPJ walk into the room. Damn, even the toilets were creepy that I had to piss with the toilet door open.

After all the huffing ang puffing our way back to Cubao, we went home with five VHS casette movies in tow. I knew it was gonna be a long night.


Monday -- March 21I went back to Mowelfund to return the VHS tapes and watch a few more films in their viewing room. It turns out their "viewing room" was part Exective Office and half stockroom. I watch a gazillion movies. I kinda remember mentioning before about me wanting to watch a plethora of films in one sitting, I just didn't think I'd actually do it within a foreseeable timeframe...and not to mention that the quality of he films ranged from the utterly bizarre pumping scenes to the ho-hum cliches.

Batang Quiapo. Pusakal. Birador.Burlesk Queen. And Lalaki Sa Buhay Ni Selya. Pitong Gatang. Sibak. Alyas Baby Tsina. Pieta. Hagedorn. Resbak.

I was so disoriented after that I still don't know how I got back to our office without tossing the cookies.


Tuesday --March 22I went back to borrow more tapes. The limit was five tapes per rental, so I got them and I'm expecting a headache any minute now.

This is another sketch of IAN.

Too bad I can't find any PCs with Photoshop installed so I could color it.

Anyway, I'm planning to redraw it...
-Very awkward gun handling
-Awkward stance
-He looks like he's got diarrhea
-Crappy lines in the pants
-It doesn't look like he's wearing a pair of baggy pants
-His legs are gonna detach

MRT: Embarrassing

A couple of weeks ago I had to meet someone over at Glorietta. The jeepney I took ended up in Crossing so the easiest –and fastest- way to get to Makati was the MRT. So I endured the long queue to purchase a ticket and queued some more just to get into the train.

I forgot what I was thinking of at that time, but whatever it was it got my head all busied up. I got on the train and waited patiently, surrounded by sweaty passengers to get to Makati. There was one particular guy who brandished a Palm Pilot. With stylus in hand he surveyed the people surrounding him, obviously looking dubious at one suspicious-looking guy to another.

General Rule: Never, use any expensive-looking gizmo in public. Even if that area boasted of high security. Fight your urge to boast about your cellphone/camera/MP3 player/palm pilot until you’ve reached your destination. I looked at the sniveling idiot and then at the window to find a bigger idiot…I found myself staring at the Araneta Coliseum.

HOLY CRAP! I got on the wrong train. I traveled several miles to the wrong direction. Apparently I have just been inflicted with maladies characterized among single, brown males: not paying attention and not asking for directions.

So I finally got to Glorietta and went on with my day. I eventually had to go home. So I figured I stand a bigger chance at getting home if I went to Crossing; otherwise I’d have to engage in battle with the Monster called Ayala Rush Hour Traffic.

I boarded an MRT train (but not before standing in a ridiculously long line at the station) and was contently waiting to get off at the Boni station.

Regular MRT passengers are aware that there is an announcer declaring over the PA system exactly where the train is. Regular MRT passengers are used to how badly the PA system is and they fully understand where they are no matter how grounded the audio sounded. Unfortunately I am not a regular MRT passenger. I heard the announcer mutter “Boni Station.” I crawled out of the station and then my mind got numb, my throat followed. And all I could do was muster a half-wondering, half-angry question: “WHY AM I IN BUENDIA???”

Evidently I queued for almost 15 minutes before I could board a train and ended up in the wrong station, miles from the destination. Again not paying attention.